


where i belong

by booooin



Series: belonging [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Communication, Consent Issues, Drugs, Dystopia, Forced Prostitution, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kink Negotiation, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nonverbal Communication, Ownership, Politics, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Prostitution, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booooin/pseuds/booooin
Summary: Bakura and Ryou try to navigate ownership without talking about it, then by talking about it. Sequel to "now i belong to you."





	where i belong

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I did it again. I keep writing fan fiction on my phone and ended up with a monstrosity. There were so many loose ends in the last one and I couldn't get it out of my head.
> 
> Thought I'd share it with anyone who is interested <3

Fucking Seto Kaiba walked into Bakura's office to deliver the fucking invitation himself. It was to the G20 - the annual gathering of all the world leaders of the nations still worth giving a damn about - that occurred every spring. If you had any political leverage, you wanted to be invited. If you weren't, that was enough to be cause for panic as, historically, it meant that you were going to disappear. Underhanded deals had already been made against you and you had better prepare to be assassinated or bought out, whichever option silenced you better. Really, it was a less than subtle way for the Board to show who was in their favor and who wasn’t.

"Congratulations," Kaiba said in his usual dry tone. "I never would have thought I'd live to see the day some street thug managed to receive one of these things.” The card was a type of paper that was 100% cotton and its letters embossed.

"I didn't either," said Bakura, "not with the amount of people who call me every week wanting me, personally, to make you a dead man."

Kaiba just smirked and helped himself to the stash of bourbon Bakura had set up next to his window. He was wearing his shoes, despite Bakura having a strict no shoes policy in his office. ”Can’t help it." Kaiba was always nasty but Bakura preferred it to those who flattered him while plotting to kill him. Nastiness, he could deal with, especially when Kaiba paid him in the millions each year to keep the assassins off his tail.

Before Bakura could tell Kaiba he wasn't in the mood to drink, he was back with two glasses. "They're cutting you a check, you know? You're really part of the top brass now, not just on TV.”

"For what?"

"Humanitarian award. You've singlehandedly reduced the poverty rates in most developing countries by about 30%. No one's seen anything like it." The sneer Kaiba wore on his face told Bakura he wasn't impressed, not by far.

"Great. I can assure you that it's nothing but a side effect of my real job - wiping the asses of the rich.” They clinked glasses to that.

The corner of Kaiba's lip quirked. "Well, in any case, I'd write a speech."

"A speech?"

"They expect you to be literate."

Bakura laughed. "Maybe," he said, "it's time for me to retire."

Kaiba finished his drink. "Do that and I really will kill you. The Board been's begging me do it for years and, every year, it starts to look better and better. See you at Senator Murphy’s tonight. She’s been begging me to get a hold of you, says you’re harder to meet than the Prime Minister himself.” He left leaving a dirty glass right on the edge of Bakura’s desk, footprints messing up Bakura’s Persian rug.

Senator Murphy was a red state specimen from Alabama who liked it in Europe on account of her having not one but two French mistresses. Bakura thought she was crass but he didn’t understand American Southern nobility enough to have a nose for what was or wasn’t. Every time she threw a party, she wanted him along and, the last time, Bakura had caught her omega ogling him before he figured out why. Malik would probably be there and Bakura had been dodging his calls all week.

 

* * *

 

At the senator's, the menu was all vegan, created by some celebrity chef to have the taste and texture of seafood. The food must have cost thousands but people in her position penciled it all in as a business expense. Her house was four stories tall and in a gated community but she didn't have a spend a dime for her own extravagance.

Malik was already there and slinking around the selection of liquor when Bakura arrived. He ignored him and went to sit in the parlor room.

Senator Murphy had a male omega who she dressed in a tuxedo and showed off a Cartier ring as proof of their engagement which, as Bakura heard it, has been ongoing for the past five months as a result of one sided affairs from the senator's side. The omega was a young, black male from a good American family and very pretty.

"It _is_ real gold," he was saying as Bakura came in. "When she bought I was, like, speechless. _Speechless_ , I tell you. I was like, why you spend all that on me?" They were sitting together, legs criss-crossed, and took the opportunity to smile and blush at each other.

"Bakura," Murphy said warmly when she saw him. "You made it, you dog." Bakura hated it when white people addressed him like a relative.

"Senator."

"We were just talking about-" she began.

"-Diamonds," her omega finished. 

"The Israelis have been looking for something to get into," the man on Bakura's left spoke up. "I say, give them the ice. They've always known how to make an oasis out of a desert, am I right?"

The diamond industry had been bled so dry that just a small one cost as much as a house these days. The history of it had painted Africa in blood.

A caterer, an omega nearing her heat which Bakura could smell and adamantly ignored, poured him a glass of champagne which he accepted. "You'd have to renegotiate with the Egyptians. They just chased the Israelis out of the Middle East. I doubt they'd want their bases so close to home so soon."

Senator Murphy spoke up, stroking her omega on the arm. "I have it on good word that the Americans are looking to invest in the region. _Atemu_ has been meeting with them." She said the name like Seto Kaiba, Atem's biggest supporter, always said it on the news. It wasn't the right way to pronounce it.

If the Americans wanted to work with Atem, that was news to Bakura. It was be a 180 from their historical stance of supporting the Israelis during the long war that drove Bakura and all the other survivors from the region.

Atem, the new Egyptian president, inherited both his position and sense of entitlement. He’d snuck into a couple headlines in the last few weeks but those in the know understood that this was just the beginning for him. Egypt was relatively undisturbed by the climate change that had destroyed half of the world and it had always been politically neutral and culturally absorbent, saving it from most of the conflict that destroyed the Middle East. As it stood, Atem was the only leader in the MENA (Middle East and North African) region with enough military persuasion the Board felt like it had to take seriously and they preferred him in Egypt where he belonged. 

In the past couple of decades, however, Atem’s father had led a multi generation long self titled “peace” campaign uniting the disparate Middle East. Most of his people had fled to Europe and the remains had been slaughtered. His son was going to come looking for them any day now. Unite the Middle East with the West - Bakura can hear the campaign slogans already. The only office that mattered was on the Board and there hadn’t been real Arab representation for almost a century now. Atem was hungry for it and all he would have to do to demonstrate to get it was consolidate the migrant population, Bakura himself included.

Bakura didn’t care about any of that. Atem’s peace campaign was responsible for the mass slaughter of his entire village when he was five.

He was one of the few people in the world who understood Egypt’s true role in the long wars. “Peace” was really shorthand for ethnic cleansing and Atem’s whole family received a hundred billion USD for creating a new market for American weapons.

Kaiba himself entered the room at that moment in a steel gray suit as the omega caterer was leaving. His eyes followed her out.

"Kaiba, what do you know about this Egyptian president meeting with the Americans?" Murphy demanded flirtatiously.

Kaiba slid into a seat next to Bakura. He was always hiding information dug out from dirty moles hiding somewhere up his ass. ”They're given him three A-bombs. It's confirmed." He knew that Atem had been on Bakura's radar since day one and never had the bastard mentioned this little detail. Fuck him.

"Oh," said Murphy. "So it's serious. What do you think he wants?”

Oh that note, Kaiba was mum. The man next to Bakura spoke up but it was obvious he didn’t know what he was talking about. “I’d be glad to see him take a bigger role in the grand scheme of things,” he said. “We have more Arabs in this country than Europeans and no one knows what to do with them. The Prime Minister is interested in seeing what this Atem fellow can accomplish.”

The problem of Atem was a concern for all the major powers, both political and corporate. The more people Atem could claim as his, the more money they made him as long as they remained impoverished. The whole refugee registration system was copied and pasted from the American prison industrial complex where billionaires got richer the more people they put in the yard - mostly black and brown men. Populations were incorporated pools of big data and politicians sold them off as privatized shares for corporate game playing. The omega trading, organ black market, and alpha fighting rings were the true backbone of the modern European economy. Bakura used to be bought and sold like all the others - he'd pulled himself up only by slaughtering his own people.

"They can all go fuck themselves," Bakura said just as Malik sauntered into the room, already drunk and his phone buzzed in his pocket.

The whole group laughed as he looked at the screen, giving him goosebumps all over. _Home_ was calling and it had to be Ryou. "I'm surprised you're so carefree about the situation," Kaiba said, giving Malik a side eyed, contemptuous look. "The first one Atem's going to want to talk to is you. We all know the Ishtars will just follow suit with whatever he’s got planned."

Malik looked moody and avoided Bakura. He was mad at him for not returning any of his calls yesterday. "Who's after who?"

Instead of paying them any more attention, Bakura picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Look," said Murphy with false affection. "He's _busy_."

"I have a question," said Ryou in the line.

Bakura barked harsher than he meant to, "What?"

"Is your fridge running?" The dinner party had resumed their conversation on new sanctions to Russia and paid Bakura no mind but Malik was moving closer. Bakura wondered if he meant to sit on Kaiba's lap. There were no more open seats in his area.

"What?"

"You're supposed to say yes," said Ryou as Malik leaned on in too close and asked, "Who are you talking to?"

Standing up, Bakura headed towards the exit. "Oh," said Ryou. "Are you with Malik?"

"No. I mean, yes. I'm at a dinner. Malik's here too." The other end was quiet and Bakura concentrated on moving through the kitchen area and looking for the toilet. "Have you eaten?" he said once he was locked in the bathroom.

"You always ask me that. _Boring_.”

“I’m saying, don't wait for me. I'm eating here."

"Okay. I'm only calling because I just watched a scary movie."

Bakura turned on the faucet in case anyone followed him out here and was listening through the door. "If it scares you, you shouldn't have watched it."

"It was about this thing that follows people around."

In the mirror, Bakura checked his face. He could use a shave. "Turn on a light. I'll be home in an hour."

"No you won't."

It was true. Dinner hadn't even been served and Bakura didn't see himself getting out of dessert until half past nine. White people liked to plan their dinners late. "I'll make an effort."

"I doubt it."

"Keep talking like that and I'll make you regret it," Bakura told Ryou, running a hand through the water and over his hair.

"What are you going to do?"

Bakura didn't answer that. "Take a shower. Touch yourself but don't come. I said I'll be home in an hour and I want to find you wet and ready for me," he said, hung up, drank some water from the faucet, and went out to rejoin the party.

It wasn't Malik waiting for him in the kitchen but Murphy's omega, chatting with some of the caterers and jumping up when he saw Bakura.

"Oh, _hey_ ," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you found the bathroom okay." From where he was sitting before, Bakura hadn't noticed the bejeweled belt he was wearing, one that matched the choker around his neck - dizzyingly laid with crystals. It looked like costume jewelry and completely intentional. The kid was young, rich, and avant garde.

"I'm fine," Bakura said, trying to decide whether it was better to stay here or rejoin the sharks in the other room.

"I don't think you got my name," the omega said, holding out his hand. "Clementine."

"Pleasure." They shook, the omega’s grip loose, and when they broke contact he trailed his fingers over Bakura's wrist.

This kid was too confident and thirsty. He was only flirting with Bakura because his alpha was notoriously cheating on him with anyone and everyone. It was probably him that scheduled the omega caterer in so close to her heat. If Bakura went along with it, he'd be just another pawn in his scheme.

All the young omegas born into the higher classes acted like this. They were drunk off the being coveted objects of desire and were pursued by the most powerful alphas in the world while simultaneously protected as valuable pieces of property by their families. They thought they ran the world and were obsessed with their own influence.

"I'm good," he said meaningfully and grabbed the kid's wrist, holding it away from him. God, he could already smell the hormones.

The omega turned his wrist against Bakura thumb and slipped out of the grip immediately, turned away, and headed back to the dining room. "Don't touch me," he said with a wink before pushing the door open.

Bakura fucking hated omegas like that.

 

* * *

 

By the time Bakura got to his car it was just past ten and traffic delayed him so he didn't pull into his own driveway until 11 PM. The lights were out in the living room and kitchen and Bakura didn't turn them on as he made his way to the bedroom.

Ryou was sprawled out in bed, asleep until Bakura crawled in with his suit still on and ran a hand against his hip and thigh.

"You smell like booze," he murmured in Bakura's neck. And omega, Bakura knew. He'd scrubbed at himself to get the smell of Clementine off him but hormones seeped into the skin.

"Hm," he said and tried to slip a hand between Ryou's legs, ran another hand through his still damp hair. "You smell great."

Ryou slapped his hand away. "I did what you said. You were late, though, so I jerked off."

It didn't matter. The alcohol was making Bakura start to doze off already. His jacket and tie were too tight and when he started to try to loosen it, Ryou's hands came up and did the work for him.

“Hey,” he said out of the blue, watching Ryou. “They’re giving me an award.” The way Ryou was scratching at his tie was going to ruin it. He didn't know how to handle nice fabrics.

“That’s really nice of them.”

“There’s going to be a big ceremony in April.”

“Oh. You should take Malik.”

Yes, Bakura really should take Malik. There had been rumors of them in the papers for months and Malik was from a good family. People would say that Bakura was trying to marry up, solidify his self made power with an old money name, if he and Malik ever went official. "You don't want to go?"

Ryou got the tie unknotted and stared at Bakura. “Are you making fun of me?”

“You know I wouldn’t,” Bakura said in his most cheesy, romantic tone, complete with a wink.

“It’s not really my style.” Ryou got to work unbuttoning Bakura’s shirt. God, Bakura loved it when Ryou said shit like that. Yes, it wasn’t really his style at all. His style was more trashy shorts with glitter and a baby blue dog collar, not black tie.

"You know what I like most about you?" he asked, still watching Ryou.

"Uh-huh?"

"It's your eyes." Ryou's eyes were mono lids, private eyes with the eyelashes long and sloped down. They were white and hid the pupils when he looked down or off to the side. Bakura could never tell what Ryou was thinking.

"Oh. Is it because I'm Asian?"

"What? No."

Ryou finished unbuttoning Bakura's shirt and starting pulling his tie off. "You want to know what my favorite thing about you is?"

Still drunk, Bakura smiled sleazily and pulled Ryou closer. "What?"

Ryou gave him a Kodak quality smile and said with stiff sarcasm, "Your personality," and turned over.

 

* * *

 

The next morning it was Saturday and Ryou hung around on the couch all day in front of a soap opera about a school kid omega who falls in love with an adult alpha in the entertainment industry that he's been watching for days now.

"You should watch this stuff in moderation," said Bakura. "It's shit TV." Ryou was too deep in the program to respond.

There wasn't any way around it. Ryou couldn't drive and couldn't read. There was nothing around the house for a ten mile radius except other mega-mansions. Even if there were, Ryou hated going outside, as he liked to say it. Bakura could only hope this was something he would eventually work out in therapy.

"Why do you cook and clean so much? Aren’t you hungover?” Ryou had asked the other day while Bakura was vacuuming, eating cookies and getting crumbs all over the couch.

"What?" He turned the vacuum off.

"You're kind of a freak about cleaning."

"Not really. Someone has to do it."

"Oh," said Ryou, biting into another cookie. "Do you want me to do it?"

It hadn't even occurred to Bakura. "I don't give a damn. If I didn't want to do it I'd hire someone."

"Why don't you then? You have money."

"It wasn't how I was raised," said Bakura and turned on the vacuum again. His childhood wasn't something he ever talked about. It was inconsequential and he was over it.

That night, over dinner, Bakura tried to talk about it. "Hey, listen, I'm not saying you can't do whatever you want but you know you can do whatever you want, right?"

Ryou blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Most omegas, like the senator’s omega, had hobbies. They took up useless things like pottery or jewelry making and had spiritual practices. The thought of Ryou doing anything posh like that made Bakura want to laugh and end up smiling, a smile that Ryou watched carefully.

"You want to take up a hobby or something? Find some fulfillment in life?"

Chewing on a cheek instead of his dinner, Ryou crossed an arm over his chest. "Are you making fun of me?"

"You know I'm not. It's just not healthy to sit around doing nothing all day."

Ryou gave him a look that said he was ridiculous. "You want me to get a hobby?"

"You could learn how to read."

Bakura didn't feel like he deserved the anger, half suppressed, aimed at him but what did he know? "I guess I'm just a dumb, lazy omega," said Ryou. "Sorry I'm here, taking up space. Eating your food. Maybe when you get tired of me you’ll trade me for a better model.” The way Ryou said these things was carefully flippant and he checked to see Bakura’s reaction once he put it all out there.

"That's not what I'm saying.” Half of the food was still on Ryou's plate but he was no longer eating, just moving it around with a fork. It was time to let the issue die. "I'm just trying to tell you, if there's something outside of the house you want to do, let me know."

Ryou took a bite of rice. "Okay. Maybe I'll take up ballroom dancing or something," he said in a tone not sarcastic enough for Bakura to call it out.

"Sure, if that's what you like." That was when they took a look at each other and mirrored the other with smiles. If nothing else, Ryou had a sense of humor.

After that, Bakura left for a meeting and Ryou left his half eaten plate on the counter and went back to bed. When Bakura came home, that was where he was.

The truth was, he wasn't sure what to do with himself these days. In the past, everyday was the same: get up, work the streets, blow his pimp, watch some dramas with the other omegas, and go to bed, maybe not in that order.

Ryou's pimp was a heavily tattooed Chinese guy named Mr. Woo who tortured them with needles when he felt like it. He had a metal finger cutter he liked to spook them with when he was bored.

Last time Ryou saw Mai, she gave him a journal. She didn't know that Ryou couldn't write and he didn't have any intention of telling her. Besides that, the only things in the house that were his was a stupid stuffed animal and a dog collar.

"Let's go to a club," he said when Bakura walked in.

 

* * *

 

They got in without waiting in line, of course they did. Once they were inside, Ryou leaned in close and shouted, "Have you been here before?"

Of course he had been here before. The bartender recognized Bakura and so this a male beta sitting at the bar. He waved and Bakura's eyes slid right over him. "You want a drink?" he asked Ryou.

They got shots and Ryou did both before Bakura could take his. They were tequila and he grabbed Bakura's hand, full of salt, and snuck him a peek before licking it lewdly.

"Let's dance," he said right as the beta at the bar grabbed Bakura's other arm from behind. Ryou couldn't hear what he said but dropped Bakura's hand like it waa dangerous to hold on.

The man was around Ryou's age, blond with a nice chest in a tight, white T-shirt. He was a little short but cute.

"Hey," he shouted, smiling, and slid his hand further up Bakura's forearm. "It's been a while." The grin Bakura gave him was abbreviated and stiff.

"Right."

"It's James."

"I remember."

The beta leaned in close, too close. "Do you really?"

Some guy came to order a drink and Ryou let him come in between him and Bakura, falling back into the crowd. A girl behind him was complaining about her boss and Ryou could hear her better than he could hear the conversation in front of him. From what he could see, James was getting closer and closer until both his hands were on Bakura's one shoulder and his smile was really attractive because he had this perfect teeth. Bakura just kept on looking like he was made of stone and said something, gesturing to Ryou.

"I thought you didn't do omegas," James said, too loud and drunk.

At that point fingers grazed Ryou's elbow and he whipped around to see a goth chick, an alpha with that quintessential British subcultural look, looking at him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" she asked. Her lipstick was black and the corners of her mouth, curled up, were crisply applied.

Ryou gave her his best smile. "Sure."

She got him a gin and tonic and they ended up dancing to techno on the floor, positioned perfectly so that he could watch Bakura and the beta talk. James was getting more and more desperate as the song got faster and the room got hotter but Bakura wasn't exactly moving out of his seat anytime soon.

"You okay?" the girl asked and Ryou flashed her a smile. He didn't really go with girls and she made him feel tall, like he should put his hands on her hips. She waved at him to get closer and, when he did, she shouted ”Is that your boyfriend?" in his ear.

It was a brief, terrifying moment and then Ryou was shooting her a silly face and loopy shrug. It made her laugh and she put her hands on his shoulders.

"Okay." She smelled nice, like a store. "You don't like girls, do you?"

Ryou shrugged again.

"It's okay. I don't like boys either. Just thought you looked lonely."

"You talk a lot." Without thinking about it, Ryou drew a line across her jawline and almost kissed her but decided not to at the last second. When he looked back at Bakura, he was getting up and heading out the door, the beta hanging on the same arm, running out beside him, trying to keep pace.

"Do you want to pursue?" the girl asked with her penciled in eyebrows raised. "Don't say you don't know again," she said before Ryou could answer and dragged him outside where they hid in a doorway while Bakura lit a cigarette and the beta shivered in the cold in just that tight, little shirt he was wearing.

"Oh shit," the girl whispered in Ryou's ear. "He's crying."

The beta - James - was. Part of his cheek glistened in the streetlight and his voice was all choked up. Ryou couldn't catch what he was saying but Bakura was close enough that when he said, "I don't like people who cry to get their way," Ryou heard him loud and clear. 

Then, there was silence and they waited for something to start but nothing happened. The girl leaned over before saying, in a normal voice, "Coast's clear," and taking out a pack of Marlboro reds. "You want a fag?"

Ryou fingered one and let his hand linger on her knee. She laughed and brushed him off.

"Hey, I mean it. I'm certifiably sapphic. I only wanted to buy you a drink because I thought you were a chick. Was too embarrassed to admit it when I realized you weren't. The name's Elena, by the way."

"Oh," said Ryou and took her lighter when she offered it. "Thanks."

"Which one's your boyfriend, sort of boyfriend, or whatever thing?"

Ryou blew smoke and leaned back. "The hot one."

"Yeah and they were both guys, right?"

She was just the right thing for the moment - lonely, crass, and gay. Maybe Bakura had gone back in. He was probably in the car. "The brown one."

"Hm," Elena said. "He was the one getting chased, huh? He's hot shit or something?"

The moon was full and there were no stars. It hung low in the clouds, gray like smog. ”I guess so."

"Well," said Elena, stretching. "I don't know what your deal is but I don't let my girlfriends chill with with crazy exes after the fact. It's disrespectful as hell."

"I guess so," Ryou said again. He was thinking about what he overheard Bakura say. James had looked so sad. He wondered what had been said.

"God kills a kitten every time you say 'I guess so'," Elena told Ryou.

"We live together," he said casually.

"Oh? So it's pretty serious?"

Ashing his cigarette, Ryou looked at the moon again. "He's really rich."

Elena squinted. "Now you say it, he's kinda familiar, isn't he? Famous?"

"Nah." Ryou made a mischievous face that spoke to the contrary and was glad when Elena let it die, didn't care.

"Okay," she said. "You do you. Maybe it's a financial arrangement, I don't know. I had a girl like that once. She was in it for the sex but, you know, after two months, I never met her friends. Every time she Instagramed photos of us having dinner, I was conveniently cut out of the frame. She really was hot shit, though. Rich and pretty. Straight, too. Shit’s like that sometimes."

Ryou didn't know anyone who used the word Instagram like a verb but the rest was familiar. Don't fall in love with alphas, especially if they fell in love with you. Love's a seasonal shift but, if you can get a guy in on the absurdity of it, make it just about the fucking and keep it simple, you could probably get him to stick around forever. A client who always wanted to see you but kept you like a dirty secret, like Bakura was doing, was short term at best. You needed to keep them wanting to keep them waiting and Ryou was wearing out his welcome everyday he spent cozied up in Bakura's place.

Thank god, Ryou thought, that Bakura had never said those three, little words. He would know it was over as soon as he heard it.

"Hey," Elena said, standing up, ”I've gotta get laid tonight so I'm going to leave you out here, alright? You going to be alright? You have a look, did you know? Like a kicked puppy."

Ryou knew. It was one of his greatest assets.

"Bye bye," he said to Elena and waved his half smoked cigarette.

When he got to the car, Bakura was waiting for him. Ryou rapped his knuckles twice on the driver's window and, when Bakura rolled the glass down, leaned in on his forearms.

"50 for head, 150 for full service," he said.

Bakura gave him a look and unlocked the doors. "You're drunk."

Ryou didn't move. "Bad night? I'll give you a discount."

"It's fine. You're cheap."

The statement made Ryou feel a certain way even though he knew Bakura was only playing along to be good. He ignored the twinge, walking around to the other side of the car with his nails dragging all the way around on the hood of Bakura's fancy car.

"I don't do kissing," he said when he got in and Bakura pulled him close. Bakura let him go, making a face.

"You really like that movie, huh?"

Ryou fingered his seat belt and decided not to wear it. "Drive to the piers. I know a good spot."

Bakura obeyed while Ryou found a station that played rock'n'roll oldies on the radio and, soon, they were by the water with the whole city laid out in front of them.

"Go back," he told Bakura. "It's the car wash on the corner."

"This is fine," said Bakura but it wasn't. This was too romantic and Ryou needed it to be fast and dirty.

A palm smoothed up Ryou's thigh and he grabbed it. "You should get your car washed."

"Is it dirty?" Bakura said, shutting off the engine.

This would have to do, but Ryou wasn't happy about it. At least, he could make sure it was quick and to the point. Grabbing Bakura by the belt, he tugged at the leather businesslike. Inside, Bakura was half hard and Ryou jerked him rough.

Bakura's phone started buzzing and, before he could put it away, Ryou picked it up. He didn't stop what he was doing until Bakura swatted his hand away and grabbed the phone out of his hands.

Bakura picked up. "I'm kind of tied up right now, Malik" With his free hand, he started unbuttoning Ryou's jeans. Leaning in, he locked eyes with Ryou and sucked on part of his abdomen, just so gently. Ryou lifted his hips slightly up and back down again self consciously but didn't say a word.

On the line, Malik's voice was scrambled and electronic - undecipherable. "Yeah, I've been getting your messages." Using his teeth, Bakura slid Ryou's boxers down.

"It's cold," Ryou complained right before Bakura licked up his cock in a flat line and had him bucking.

"Listen, my phone's gonna die," he told Malik and hung up, dropping his phone somewhere on the dashboard.

They took their time that night, the sunlight already starting to bend in the atmosphere and Bakura sucking Ryou nice and easy for as long aa he wanted. On their way home, Ryou closed his eyes and let himself drift.

 

* * *

 

"We should get you a coat," Bakura mentioned the next day, Sunday. The slums were hot all year round because they were right next to the toxic city generators but, now, the long sleeved shirts Ryou found somewhere in Bakura's closet were no longer cutting it.

If Bakura wanted to buy him a coat, Ryou figured he could stick around for winter at least. It was a happy thought admist a head that felt stuffed with wool these days. "Okay," he said.

When they went to the store, however, every price tag had too many digits and Bakura just hung around the entrance, doing something on his phone. A salesperson pounced on Ryou and told him the one he was hovering next to was a good fit. It was $3000.

Ryou tried it on because he felt pushed and like his face was too warm, like he was clumsy and should find something to cover himself with. It was all horrible and he wanted to get it over with. He never kept anything that alphas bought him.

"That looks nice," Bakura said, coming up behind him and putting away his phone to take out his wallet in one motion. In the mirror, Ryou watched the salesperson take the credit card with both hands and leave for the register.

When he looked back at himself, he noticed the way Bakura was looking at him. He knew that look.

It was unhurried look, warm, and made everything feel lax.

"Oh," Ryou blurted out. "You're in love with me."

Bakura raised both eyebrows and got closer instead of farther and hooked an arm around Ryou's shoulder. "Say that again. Louder this time," he dared. It was embarrassing for him, what Ryou just did.

Love lasts for three heats, the mantra from Ryou's adolescence came back into his head like clockwork. He wasn't sure where he heard it for the first time. Maybe Mr. Woo told it to him, maybe another omega who wanted to watch out for him. Maybe he heard it on TV. All he knew was that, in his experience, it had held up.

A lot of alphas had looked at Ryou with that look. He was cute and he clearly knew how to get someone worked up about him. This wasn't even the first time one had taken him to his home, trying to save him from his tragic life. All those experiences followed a similar pattern - he got a few months off hanging around their houses while they slowly realized that he was duller than whatever fantasy they had made in their heads about him. They never took him out except to buy him stuff and only in anonymous settings. They didn't introduce him to their friends and kept other lovers on standby. After they kicked him out in the end, they would go back to their old lives seamlessly. Ryou was never part of their lives.

Three months was the deadline - not one of those affairs lasted longer. Ryou only started counting when they fell in love for real.

Ryou broke free from Bakura's grasp and took off the coat slowly and carefully, avoiding Bakura's eyes as he did so. Then, he pushed the coat into his arms, turned on his heels, and walked out the door to wait by the car.

He wasn't running yet. He just needed the cold to clear his head.

 

* * *

 

After they bought the coat, Ryou refused to wear it. Bakura chalked it up to one of the omega's weird moods and didn't think much about it. He had things to do - the work he put off to party and shop on the weekend was blowing up his phone in real time.

After dropping Ryou off at therapy, he got on a plane to Egypt. The new president had demanded a meeting and it gave Bakura an excuse to go to Egypt. 

Once he got to the country, Bakura ended up blowing Atem off. Instead, he checked on a few secret compounds he had scattered throughout the region in the years past. Part of the reason the international part of his business wasn't always profitable on paper was the large numbers of food and military equipment he was funneling into regular villages full of desperate individuals.

It was Atem's father’s war that got his family blown up and it was his war that killed all industry in the region, made its population flee from the day and night bombings in boats without enough fuel and buses so cramped people couldn't sit for days and came out with muscle failure.

Bakura always needed a reason to come into the region in order to not set off alarms and the meeting Atem called was the best one yet. By the time Bakura was done, he'd missed his commercial flight and the sun was going down on the Nile.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Ryou walked in, Mai felt in her bones that something was off. He didn't make eye contact before heading to the couch and collapsing onto it, as if fed up with his own weight.

"How are you, Ryou?" Mai always addressed her clients with a first name. It humanized their interactions.

"Fine."

Last week, they had talked about all the dramas that Ryou watched and the sense of uselessness this accumulating spectatorship gave him right before Bakura came home. _I feel like the mornings are forever and the afternoons don't exist_ , Ryou had told her. It had been good - he was describing depression and this was the first, lost step out of it. "Ryou, do you remember what we were talking about last week?"

Ryou didn't respond right away. "I don't get what the point of all of this is."

"Excuse me?"

This was also normal - when clients progressed a certain amount, there had to be pushback. Mai was ready for it.

"You mean therapy in general or just this session?"

Facedown on the couch, Ryou shrugged.

"Well, that's something we can use this session to clarify. What are your reasons for coming here?"

"Bakura said I have to."

"Hm," said Mai. "Do you have any reasons you come, just for yourself?"

Ryou ignored her. "It's just a waste of time."

"Why?" Mai shot back.

The question, a bit aggressive, made Ryou reel back and turn a little whimsical. "I guess it makes them feel better," he said, turning and smiling at Mai like they were in on an inside joke together.

She didn't give up. "What makes who feel better?"

"Alphas," Ryou said like it was obvious. 

"Clarify." In the past weeks, Mai had learned that Ryou responded best to an authoritative tone and became suspicious when she tried softer tactics.

"He wants to make me better," Ryou said, looking away, "but he really wants to make himself better.”

The statement hit a chord. The heart of therapy was the simple fact that everyone wanted to make themselves better, bigger, and stronger save for the patient. Mai could write a thesis on this subject alone.

"So, what you're saying is that Bakura is projecting his own needs onto you by making you go to therapy?"

Ryou blinked at Mai in a way that made her feel dumb. "I don't know what that means. Is that something you read from a book?"

He was too smart and, when he got like this, Mai didn't know how to talk to him. The only thing she could do was sit back and see if he wanted to keep talking.

"I just think this is stupid," Ryou said again, "if he's planning to leave me anyway."

This was new. Ryou had never brought up insecurities about his position or relationship with Bakura, despite it hanging over every dialogue like a storm cloud. His survival in this world was completely dependent on whether his alpha he had still wanted him or not.

"It's not easy to be an omega in our society," Mai offered. When she hit puberty, she had triumphed by biology alone. Yes, she was fucking glad she wasn't an omega - life as a female omega would have equaled a life of slavery, despite Mai's liberal upbringing. The only reason she could have a career as a woman was because she was also an alpha. All the work she did on omega rights would have been impossible if she actually one.

"It's not that hard," Ryou said. "You just open your legs and take it."

“What makes you think Bakura wants to leave you?" Mai asked, changing the trajectory of the conversation. Her job was to divert things away from too much nihilism.

"He's in love with me," said Ryou flatly. Mai blinked. "Love's a season. Lasts for three heats," he said when she didn't reply right away.

This was a toxic piece of pop culture, something everyone said about alpha-omega relationships, embedded in the pop songs and a piece of drama to drive soap operas. Repeat something over and over again and it will come true on a mass scale.

"So you believe that it's inevitable Bakura will leave you, now that feelings are involved?"

Ryou sat up and faced her for the first time since he came in. "Alphas like to fuck and then they move on. It's biology. They have to spread their seed."

"What about omegas?"

This gave Ryou pause. "I haven't thought about it.”

“Maybe that’s something you can journal about,” suggested Mai.

 

* * *

 

After therapy, Ryou waited in the waiting room for Bakura to pick him up. He looked through all the magazines and pamphlets (Mai didn’t keep good ones) and the sun set before Mai came out in a leather jacket and wool cap.

"Ryou? You're still here."

It wasn't like Ryou felt embarrassed - he was thick skinned in that way. But he did feel bad that Mai couldn't lock up on account of him still being here. The discomfort hit him right in the gut.

"Do you want to use my phone to call Bakura?"

The last thing Ryou wanted to do was call Bakura right then. He gave a noncommittal shrug. "Can you do. it?"

"Sure." Mai disappeared in her office and came out a few minutes later. "He sent a car," she said gently, which Ryou hated. He hated it when people treated him gently when he felt like a firm, calloused thing with a short attention span and no moods. After hanging around the door a bit, Mai took off her cap. "I'll get some work on done my office while you wait, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Ryou said and fingered a Star News magazine open for the fourth time.

 

* * *

 

When Marik's car pulled up, Ryou got in without looking at him. "Can you take me somewhere?"

"Hey sweetie pie, sorry about this mess. Bakura told me to pick you up but you know how _I_ am. Unreliable and dimwitted."

Ryou rolled his eyes and reclined the passenger's seat. "Can you take me somewhere?" he repeated.

"Where do you want to go?" Marik said, sounding like he didn't want to go anywhere.

"Jewels," said Ryou. It was the name of the club Mr. Woo ran, where he cruised before Bakura took him in.

Marik laughed. "That's a real seedy place. You missing the life?"

Sitting back in his seat, Ryou smiled his sweetest smile for Marik to see and said, "Just take me there."

 

* * *

 

It was like Ryou never left. The first thing Mr. Woo did was try to strangle him for disappearing and coming back with no cash.

"You had yourself a nice, little vacation, didn't you? Go to my office," he said to Ryou in front of everyone. "Wait for me there."

It wasn't a big deal. Ryou knew from experience that all he wanted to do was perform the usual threats, leave a few marks on him to discourage the others from pulling something similar, and get a quickie before he put Ryou back on the circuit.

Picking up customers was even easier. The new faces didn't recognize Ryou and the old ones liked seeing him around again. It was one after another that first night and, when dawn came, Ryou was so sore he couldn't sit up.

" _You_ did well tonight," Scarlet, an older omega who loved junk, told him over a cigarette. Ryou just yawned and curled up against a wall. He was cold despite the heat in the slums, still in Bakura's clothes, and, before he left that morning, left the coat Bakura bought him still in the bag.

 

* * *

 

The first time Bakura came by, Ryou was working the street and recognized the car right away. "Check that out," Dakota had howled. "That's a _nice_ car."

When Ryou approached, he saw that Bakura was watching the hair salon across the street in a baseball cap and with a machine gun under his arm.

"50 for head," Ryou offered with a mischievous smile when Bakura rolled the window down and blocked his view of the salon purposefully.

"I'm working," said Bakura. "Move."

Ryou didn't move quickly, let his body writhe over the side of the car suggestively and shook his hips as he turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait," said Bakura. When Ryou turned back around, he took a mugshot of Scarlet out of his wallet in which she looked almost green. "Seen her around?"

"Nope," said Ryou cheerily and really did leave.

 

* * *

 

The second time Bakura came around, he told Ryou to get in the car. Ryou ended up giving him a hand job going through the car wash he had wanted them to go through the night they tried to go clubbing. Just by telling himself that it didn’t feel familiar he felt as if he was seeing Bakura in a whole new way, under a whole new light. It made Ryou feel good.

He was just a client when Ryou reached into his pants and started pumping up and down. He was just a client when Ryou pushed against the ridge under his balls and he was still just a client when he came with a grunt and Ryou caught the semen with a palm.

"Do you have a tissue?" he asked while Bakura redid his pants.

Bakura didn't even look at him. "No."

 

* * *

 

After that, Ryou went through another heat and Mr. Woo put him in the Stables where his legs were chained apart while anonymous alphas came in and out all around the clock. Oxytocin got him through the whole thing and, when it was over, Ryou had a headache and had to lay on his stomach, for two days. This was fine - as long as he wasn't eating, Mr. Woo wouldn't get on his case about making money.

After, Ryou found Bakura in his car again on a rainy day and leaned into the open window. “You look familiar. I think you know my rate?”

When he walked around the perimeter to get in, however, he had a moment of deja vu, of doing this exact same thing to the same car somewhere else. The car door open, Ryou stared at Bakura and pretended he didn't recognize him, pretended that he wasn't getting soaked by acid rain right that moment.

"I can't do it like this," Ryou heard himself say, closed the door, and went back where he came from, feeling like his eyes were burning.

 

* * *

 

The last time Bakura came, it was at the club. Ryou was working the bar, trying to get the drink sales up and had already had five alphas in the back rooms. Bakura came in with an entourage of men in suits and Ryou counted the seconds it would take for Mr. Woo to get on his case about the security detail. It didn't come.

Instead, Bakura disappeared into Mr. Woo's office and a client pulled Ryou off the floor. When he came out, word was out that Mr. Woo had left with a briefcase of money and someone was asking to see Ryou in the office.

Inside, Bakura was looking over paperwork in the office chair like he belonged there.

"Get in the car out front," he told Ryou.

 

* * *

 

The car stalled for an hour before the man driving it took Ryou to a warehouse close to the chemical fields. There, the air was freezing and Ryou realized that, outside of the slums, it had snowed.

Inside, someone was screaming.

There was a long hallway with six doors, one of which was open. As the man brought Ryou to the last door in the back, he saw a man inside with the front of his blue shirt fresh with red mucous.

"Get out," Bakura said to the man once Ryou was inside. He was drinking something amber in a glass and peeling an apple with a knife.

Ryou stood, feeling gawky and fingers numb. This was another office. On the walls were all sort of guns and the desk in front of where Bakura was sitting was steel, indented randomly across the surface.

"I think you forgot something," Bakura told him, hooked an ankle over a knee, looking casual and powerful.

Ryou stood still, still mute. 

"You forgot that you belong to me," Bakura said, tilting his head and forcing Ryou to meet his eyes. "Didn't you?” The man in the other room screamed again and Ryou bit the inside of a cheek as he watched Bakura slowly peel his apple.

A knock startled him from behind and another man poked his head in. "Sir, he gave up the first location."

Bakura looked annoyed as hell. "There's three, last time I checked."

"All the same compound. His words"

"Do the teeth again. Make sure," Bakura told him and jerked his head, telling him to get out and on it. After the man left, his attention was back on Ryou and he patted his lap. "Lock the door and get over here."

The way Ryou moved was automatic. Years of life experience had trained him to understand to his bones that, in situations like this, you obeyed without thinking. Maybe his biology played a part. The man screamed again as Bakura played with his knife.

"You know what I think?" he asked Ryou when he was on his lap and still did not speak. He understood that, when an alpha asked this question, they never really wanted to know the answer. "I think that we're really shitty at communicating. What do you think of that?"

Bakura was trailing the knife against Ryou's face and Ryou wasn't going to let himself flinch away. He wasn’t someone who reacted in these types of situations. He chose to nod instead.

"Right," said Bakura, speaking slowly. "We're not so good at talking. I thought I'd make it a little easier. You see, _here_ , I ask the questions and you answer them. And you don't dare fucking lie to me." The knife flirted with Ryou's throat.

"Okay," Ryou breathed, glad that his voice was working normally.

The knife was skirting across Ryou's collarbone when Bakura asked, "Why did you run away, Ryou? Got homesick? Miss your pimp?"

The use of his name distracted Ryou enough he didn't even hear the rest. He couldn't recall Bakura ever having used it. Before he knew it, the knife was pressing into him and stinging him. "I was bored." The sting faded when he answered and Bakura met his eyes.

“So I'm boring?"

Ryou wanted to look away but felt like there would be consequences if he did. So, he blinked several times quickly while Bakura lifted up his shirt.

The edge of the knife was on Ryou's abdomen for just a second, against the jagged scar he had there, when he jerked away, pushing Bakura's chest violently, and falling on the ground to his knees completely. A reflex Ryou didn't know he had had come out of nowhere.

"Oh," Ryou gasped when he found himself on the floor, stomach clenching. It was hard to look back up at Bakura but, when he did, he was just sitting there, just as before, wearing that patient expression that wasn't at all soothing. 

"You're scaring me," Ryou told him, knowing exactly pathetic he sounded and hugging his arms together despite it.

Bakura put the knife down. Then, he unclasped his watch, rubbed the scent gland under it, and held his wrist out for Ryou to sniff like he was an animal. All Ryou could smell was his odor and fading metallic and before he thought too much about it, he was pressing his nose against the skin like he needed it, gasping desperately and mind going numb from it. It was a pheromone designed to calm him and Ryou fucking loved it. When he decided Ryou had enough, Bakura took the wrist away and left him groveling on the floor for more.

"Tell me one of your secrets, Ryou.”

When Ryou tried to lean forward and find Bakura's wrist with his nose again, his head was pulled back strictly by the hair.

"You had enough. Do what I say. Don't think."

Ryou stopped thinking. He let the animal part of him take over, the part that didn't think around questions and try to figure everything out. This was the part that did what was asked of him without question always, faithfully, and only. "Sometimes I hate you," he said, everything coming out of him memorized and mechanical, "because you saved me and I'm just a leisure activity to you."

"Keep going. Get it all out."

"I want to be with you all the time. I want you to never let go."

"Romantic," said Bakura callously and didn't reach out for him.

"I'm not good for you," continued Ryou. "You can do a lot better - I keep thinking that. It comes in my head all the time."

Bakura didn't reply to that, just waited to see if Ryou would keep talking.

"But love's only three heats - seasonal. Alphas are built to spread their seed, I mean, that's why you took me - I was in heat. Bio-lo-gi-cal," said Ryou, running his sentences together and then sing-songing the last part slowly.

Bakura sneered. "You're almost poetic, aren't you?" Ryou didn't know how to answer that and took the moment to shift his weight on the floor, nudging Bakura's knee with his face. He wanted the wrist again.

Bakura raised his eyebrows. "Did I say that you can touch me?" Immediately, Ryou jerked back. It was a second and then Bakura was stroking under his chin like he really was an animal, tugging him closer and putting his chin on his knee, right where Ryou had it before. "So, in your little grand narrative," Bakura ruminated, "alphas are assholes who dip when things get good, huh?"

Ryou tried to kiss Bakura's hand but it was pulled away.

"It's a nice story. I guess we all have to tell ourselves something. I'm interested, Ryou. I want to hear more. Where'd you hear this?"

This, Ryou had no idea about. "It's just true. I've had other boyfriends."

"Is that what you think I am?"

Now, Bakura was just being cruel. Ryou inhaled and closed his eyes, opened them again slowly and he was still in that room. "They like to keep me in their houses, buy me nice clothes and they treat me like a vacation. Then they put me back where I belong."

"Sounds like a nice deal for you. You get a few months off too, no strings attached."

Ryou tripped over his next words. "I didn't want you to send me back."

It could have been just Ryou's imagination but he thought that something softened along Bakura’s eyebrows. Then, Bakura's hand was on the back of his neck, rubbing at a scent gland. "Tell me what the omegas want in this little story you like to tell yourself so much."

Last time this question was asked, Ryou was in Mai's office and feigning boredom because he didn't want to think about it. This time, he didn't have to think. The answer just stumbled out of his mouth.

"Protection."

Something changed in Bakura's expression like a switch when Ryou said that and the hand around Ryou's neck loosened completely.

"Come here," Bakura said, finally, after the silence stretched too long and pulled Ryou into his lap, took the apple he'd peeled from the desk, and put it in Ryou's mouth. "Eat some of this."

In Bakura's lap, Ryou took the apple, saw that it was half peeled, skin spiraling off, and buried his face in the crook of Bakura's neck, breathing in and out for a long time.

"Let's go home," Bakura finally said.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Bakura pulled the covers off Ryou at the crack of dawn.

"Get up. I'm putting you to work."

They picked up breakfast sandwiches at a convenience store and drove to a cement structure with darken glass window panes. Inside, Persian rugs covered the floors and ivy grew up the walls.

"Closet," Bakura said, giving Ryou his coat. When it was hung up he appraised him from his chair. "Get in the corner."

No one told Ryou to kneel but it felt like the right thing to do. Bakura didn't comment on it so he stayed like that for the rest of the morning. It was afternoon when Bakura acknowledged him again. "Go get my coat. We have a meeting."

Before Bakura could reach for the coat from Ryou, he had it stretched out for him. Bakura missed a beat but caught on fast. He slipped his arms through and let Ryou turn him around, smoothing the fabric on the front and looking through his eyelashes occasionally as he did each button for him slowly.

 

* * *

 

Fucking Atem had three nuclear weapons and this was a problem. It wasn't a problem that he was planning to move his empire to the West, it wasn't even a problem that he had American help. The nukes were the problem because they made Atem into a superpower all on their own. Bakura could take the rest.

KaibaCorp was the best weapons manufacturer on this side of the world but he didn't have the labor America had. Still, it was the best place to go if you wanted 100,000 assault rifles fabricated and delivered where you needed it.

Bakura liked his guns made in Japan - they were precise and came equipped with AI that even an eight year old could operate.

There was nothing wrong with bringing your omega with you on your business, if you were a two bit gangster stuck in the slums. If you were truly rich and powerful, your omega stayed home in their rightful place and could afford omega hobbies and had other well bred omega friends from the elite social circles. Only those from the lower classes felt the need to show off their property so blatantly and, as Bakura walked in with Ryou trailing three paces behind him, Kaiba checked them out with a judgmental sneer.

"Bakura, you little shit," he greeted, his beta secretary hovered by his arm with an electronic notepad. She smiled politely at Bakura, then ignored Ryou to hide exactly how distasteful she found Ryou's presence behind manners that enacted superiority but did announce it. "You know, usually we don't allow omegas in polite company. I suppose your upbringing didn't teach you proper etiquette, did it?"

"Fuck you too, Kaiba."

It couldn't be helped. In Ryou's world, alphas showed their omegas that they were part of their lives by showing them off and offered them security by putting them in cages. They showed that they cared by punishing them. Bakura had to play by Ryou's rules or their dynamic could collapse from mistranslation.

It almost freaked Bakura out, how accepting Ryou was of a more dominant persona. The night before, he'd come to bed and found Ryou kneeling on the floor looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He wouldn't go to bed until Bakura explicitly ordered him to. That morning, instead of analyzing over and picking at his food like usual, he ate the sandwich Bakura threw at him without question, like he didn't even taste what he was putting into his mouth.

Bakura hadn't been the one to train him to behave this way. Someone else had, long before they had even met.

Bakura wondered if the look the secretary gave Ryou mattered to him after they'd gotten a tour of the factory and Kaiba sat them in a conference room with a display of sashimi set on the large table. For all the antics and "fuck you"s he exchanged with Bakura, Bakura was still the biggest client he would get that month and Kaiba liked his money.

"Help yourself," Kaiba mentioned lazily about the food like he didn't care whether they ate or not. Ryou didn't move even though he liked fish. Usually Ryou would eat this with his hands, licking soy sauce from his palms.

Both Kaiba and secretary tried not to watch as Bakura fixed Ryou a plate. They didn't say a word when Ryou started eating the slices of fish with a spoon that wouldn't behave.

"Your omega," the secretary spoke up, acknowledging Ryou's presence for the first time. "He's Japanese?” She was a culturally ambiguous looking woman with black hair, who could be Japanese or Arabic or Latina but wasn’t. She was just the dictionary definition of pretty with a tight bun and dress suit.

"Not sure," Bakura answered. "You Japanese?” he asked Ryou.

Ryou blinked at him before answering, as if wildly unsure why this was being brought up. Bakura understood. In the slums, everyone was a mutt. No one cared what you were.

"He's cute," the secretary congratulated Bakura with a fake ass smile, for what he didn't know. He didn’t make Ryou even though he was responsible for him now.

"He's a GMO," Kaiba said suddenly. Bakura raised an eyebrow. “Genetically modified. There were a commodity in Old Japan - all of them intellectual property of yours truly. See, I made my fortune innovating life, not cutting people open and burying the bodies." He gave Bakura a smug look.

"Fuck off, Kaiba. What the hell are you talking about?"

“A clone. The barcode is proof. Intellectual property of KaibaCorp, probably a model from sometime in the last decade or so. She's one too," he said, gesturing to his secretary.

She smiled at them, and revealed a barcode, slightly shorter than Ryou's, under her collar.

"We make them designer now, with less bugs. Back then, genetic experimentation was an impossibility, aside from a few physical alterations. You got what you got from whatever egg and sperm was available. Usually the lower rungs of society, trying to make a buck. Most of them were made for menial factory jobs, service positions, the sex industry," Kaiba prattled on. "They were a major Japanese export until the refugee crisis filled that particular hole. I wouldn't worry too much, Bakura," he scoffed. "I have no desire to take this prototype out of your hands. He's useless in this economy."

God, Bakura hated him. Whenever Kaiba started talking about his products, he just kept going on and on in that stuffy, monotone voice he had.

"See, Bakura?” Kaiba kept going with the perfect, arrogant smirk set in stone. "You love our products. Buy 200,000 guns from me today and I'll throw in another omega in the bag for you."

Someday, Bakura was going to hit Kaiba where it hurts most and he'd never even see it coming. He happened to know that Kaiba was implicated in Atem's scheme somehow, on account of them both having American influence play according to their interests. He just had to figure out what he was in it for and make him a better offer.

This inane conversation didn't matter. Bakura needed the guns and he needed them in the Middle East as soon as possible. As soon as Atem heard about it, Bakura's plan would start working. 

"Let's talk prices," he said. Kaiba grinned.

 

* * *

 

Days passed in which Ryou didn't have to keep track of time, didn't have to think because Bakura was always there, telling him exactly what to do. He didn't have to think about what to wear, when to get up, or what to do with him hands. There was always a right way of doing things and that was what Bakura wanted him to be doing right then, in that moment. Nothing else mattered.

There was a safety to living like this.

The night after they visited KaibaCorp, Ryou hovered in the bathroom door, watching Bakura at the sink. He was brushing his teeth in sweatpants and nothing else. Out of all the alpha Ryou had found himself with, none of them had seemed as human as Bakura did just then.

"Can I ask you something?"

Bakura spit in the sink, came back out smelling of spearmint. "What?"

"Do you really think I'm a clone?"

The expression on Bakura's face became odd and unreadable. "Kaiba usually knows his shit."

"Oh," said Ryou. "Do you think it's weird?"

Bakura put a hand on his back and guided him towards the bed. "If I cared, I would bring it up, wouldn't I?” Ryou felt soft again, now that he remembered that things only mattered when Bakura brought them to his attention.

In bed, they settled in together. Since Ryou came back, everything was different. The only constant that remained was the familiar slide of their bodies together at the end of a weary day. There was muscle memory to the way Bakura's arm draped over Ryou's ribcage and how Ryou would tuck his cold feet between Bakura's thighs.

"Do I embarrass you?" Ryou asked the question abruptly, like he hadn't thought it over for the whole afternoon now. When the secretary at KaibaCorp looked at him, Ryou felt like his skin was floating above his form.

Bakura was a fast sleeper and was already facedown against Ryou's shoulder. "Hm?" Instead of clarifying, Ryou let things go quiet and his eyes close.

In the dream he had that night, he was one of three women living in a house that the city sentenced to demolition. The villagers gathered around when they refused to leave and set up wooden stocks to burn them in. When he woke up, he was waiting for the fire to touch his back and trying to tell himself that this would be the last few seconds he could think of anything but pain but only able to think of pain.

The room, in a house built far from the city, was dark when Ryou opened his eyes. The ceiling looked like infinity and he could not feel his arms nor figure out what he was doing here, in such a space and at such a time.

Bakura was still asleep, face smashed in the pillows now facing the other direction.

 _I hate people who cry_ , he'd said last time Ryou saw the full moon.

Curling into Bakura's back, Ryou woke him up by forcing his hands into his armpits and pretended to be still asleep when he inevitably tried to roll over. He was cradled by a groggy Bakura with both arms, heavy and lax.

"Hey," Bakura said.

Ryou opened his eyes and kissed him. As Bakura closed his eyes again he tried to think of something to say. "I've only sucked your cock once, right?"

The corners of Bakura's mouth went up but he didn't open his eyes. "Are you offering?"

Ryou contemplated ducking under the covers, wondering if that would make him feel better. His heart was still racing, as if he were a captured woman about to be subjected to torture and shackled in wood. Right when he was about to make a move, Bakura peeked at him between dark eyelashes. "Go to sleep," he told Ryou and closed his eyes with a clumsy thumb.

 

* * *

 

In the afternoon, Bakura put away his laptop and turned his chair around to face Ryou, who was kneeling and picking at a hangnail with his teeth. He stopped mid bite and waited for Bakura to say something.

"Are you bored?"

The nail bed on Ryou’s thumb had been ravaged all morning and he tucked it into a fist. "No."

"I have a meeting with a man," said Bakura, "who claims to be the Egyptian president. I want you to do something for me."

Ryou straightened up.

"I need you to be my second pair of eyes," said Bakura. "Watch what he does. Listen to what he says. I want to hear what you think."

The man who came in was a small one with a threatening demeanor and wild hair. " _Marhabaan_ ," he greeted with a hand out stretched.

"Atem." 

Bakura was full of warmth as he rose, like the two were old friends and pulled them close into a hug instead of a handshake. Ryou had never seen him do that before. "Have a seat." Before the meeting, Bakura had a much smaller chair moved in to replace the usual cushioned one he kept for guests, one that was perpendicular and metal. Atem could sit down but he couldn't relax.

Then, both of them waited. Ryou had already noticed a while back that Bakura never spoke first in these things if he could help it. He supposed this man drew from the same bag of tricks.

"I'm sure you've heard the gossip," Atem began when it really did turn awkward. "What they say on the news."

Bakura smiled indulgently. "About you? I don't believe a word of it."

Ryou had seen the videos early in the mornings too. All the programs were obsessed with how Atem was a force of good, an unifying influence for the Arabic peoples, and about how he was going to uplift the impoverished region out of a century of war.

Atem cleared his throat. "Of course not. Sponsored programs, a lot of them," he admitted.

"Sure," said Bakura easily.

"But they're useful," Atem said, nodding as if talking to himself. “You stood me up last time,” he said like he only just remembered.

Bakura stretched. “I did. It’s on the airline but I’ll take the heat.”

The way Atem held himself and let a pause settle made Ryou think that he didn’t believe Bakura. It was an astute intuition because Ryou could tell when Bakura was lying.

"Bakura, I think we both know why we're in this room today,” Atem changed the subject. “You and I both know that there is no longer any border between the Middle East and the West. I consider you as one of the more influential figures in our society, especially for the migrant populations."

Without moving, Bakura pulled out a cigarette and tapped a lighter against the edge of the desk. Reacting automatically, Ryou crawled over on his hands and knees to take it and held it out. Bakura let him light his cigarette but ignored him otherwise.

The way Atem watched them was inscrutable. Ryou was aware of why Bakura just orchestrated that little display. It was a basic way of showing his power. Alphas did things like this all the time and Ryou was good at playing along.

"I want to propose a partnership," Atem continued. "I believe that it is necessary for us to work together if the Arab peoples are to be united."

“The United Arab Nations," said Bakura. "Sounds great. Under your presidency, I assume?"

The brief deer in headlights glance Atem gave him told Ryou everything. This man wasn't special - he was just one of the many who had never had his authority questioned.

“I wasn’t aware of your interest in politics,” Atem said smoothly. “I’m not sure you have the right family background to be in the running.”

Bakura gave a short laugh. ”Don’t worry, Atem. I’m strictly a corporate man. All I’m saying is that the Ishtars are prominent, They have more connections, more money, more respect than me, left over from the old rulership. Your father played golf with daddy Ishtar for years. Why are you here?"

"The Ishtars were powerful," Atem agreed. He didn't look like he particularly liked the way Bakura was questioning him. He was someone used to getting his way, used to people standing behind him and his noble cause. "I don't hear the best stories about the sons."

Ryou had never met Ishizu Ishtar but, from what he'd observed over the months, it was obvious that she was the one who pulled strings in the family.

"Right," Bakura said and took a drag of his cigarette, blew it in Atem's face. "Let's say that I go along with you and support your claim to represent me and all the other _little people_. What do I get out of it?"

Again, Atem just looked surprised. "You get to help unify a war town Middle East, Bakura. The prosperity of our people. I don't understand what else you want. A chair in my cabinet? Have it.”

“I told you, I’m a corporate man.”

“Who conducts most of his business dealings in secret.” Atem sat forward and Ryou could see why he was able to unite a stressed Middle East all the way from North Africa. There was a hero like quality to Atem that would look attractive to anyone who wanted to be saved.

Back in the slums, there was always some asshole trying out entrepreneurship by starting their own independent nation and scamming people out of what little social security they had by stealing their information and registering them in their bullshit country without consent. Every life was registered as some nationality or another. You received more benefits if you were part of the wealthier ones. The more people a nation claimed, the more it was worth in the stock market and the richer whoever its founder was got.

Now that nation-states were incorporated, populations themselves became shares of a global market. The more people Atem could claim as supportive of his rule, the more money he had and he wanted all the refugees who escaped the bloodshed of the wars. Citizenship was just a number in a stock market the powerful traded between themselves. 

Atem wasn’t anything special - he was just some bully using the same tricks Ryou’s seen in the slums for years.

And, the thing was, if this was his grand scheme, then it told Ryou that Atem was running from debts he’d rather hide. People pulled this move when they needed to make money fast.

"Of course, I'd like a financial commitment as soon as possible," Atem went on. "That is, if you're good for it. I'm hesitant to work with him, but Marik Ishtar is going to be hot for my deal and I have a meeting with him next week."

Bakura gave him a sick smile and motioned for his guard to open the door. "I'll think about it."

Atem didn't move. The meeting was too brief and Ryou could tell he felt like he hadn't been given the correct consideration. Really, he just hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

At that moment, Marik came in, one of Bakura's guards following him, looking anxious about the intrusion. "Right on time. We were just talking shit about you," Bakura told him as soon as he came in.

"Just came to drop some things off," Marik said, the coat Ryou left with him in one hand and a briefcase in another.

Atem looked quietly enraged, like he'd never had someone walk into a meeting that he'd set. Seeing Ryou on the floor, Marik winked. "Hey, babe," he flirted. "I heard you're back and just had to see you in person. Can I get a date sometime?"

"I suppose," Atem said, "this is my cue. I'm not so thick that I can't tell when I'm no longer welcome."

"I didn't know you were ever welcome here.” Bakura faked shock and took the briefcase from Marik.

"You think you're badass, don't you?" Marik said when Atem was gone, leaving a bad taste around, and Bakura was going through the paper files inside. "I wouldn't waste my time baiting a guy like that. He was born a prince and he's going to be a king."

"I'm not a fan," Bakura said.

"Well, I'm on his good list," gloated Marik. "He came to my house last week. Ishizu set it up made me do it. I'm still the Ishtar heir in name, I guess." He said the last bit in a voice that sounded a bit numb. "He has three nukes, did you know?"

"I'm aware."

Marik grinned slowly at Bakura like he really liked him which, Ryou realized, was entirely possible. "A word of advice - join 'em if you can't beat 'em. And you can’t beat one nuke, never mind three. I know you feel some type of way with all of those presidents and senators but you're playing with fire with this one."

Bakura looked up from the files and smiled back at him with his arms crossed. "Marik, get the fuck out of my office."

 

* * *

 

"What do you think?" 

Atem was gone and Bakura was alone with Ryou, sharing a pita with him for lunch.

He wanted to know what Ryou told of the encounter not because he didn't know how it would pan out but because, these past few weeks, he saw Ryou's eyes follow everything and everyone around them and Bakura realized that he'd never had anyone so intimately on the inside before.

A whore had instincts for reading people, for knowing which clients were the bad ones and for knowing which ones had the big wallets. Bakura had a hunch that Ryou could see through situations better than most of the men Bakura hired even when he wasn’t trying.

On the floor, Ryou propped himself up on his elbows over falafel, flexible and comfortable. "What do you mean?"

"What the hell did he want from me?" That was one thing Atem hadn't clarified pre meeting nor during, besides that detail about asking for money at the end. Bakura supposed that he had assumed it was implicit what Bakura’s support would entitle Atem to but he often found himself unhappy with assumed things.

When he spoke, Ryou's voice was breezy, like he didn't want to be caught saying anything he couldn’t pass off afterwards. Bakura would have to walk him through it. Omegas weren't rewarded for having ideas - they were rewarded for keeping their mouths shut. "He wants you to stay out of his way." 

Of course Ryou was right on the money. "What do you think about him meeting with Marik?"

"Oh," said Ryou. "He said he didn't."

"That's because he's full of shit."

"Maybe he forgot." 

Bakura burst out laughing.

Encouraged, Ryou kept going. "He was really cool," he said casually in a voice that definitely didn't mean it.

"Was he?" Under Atem’s father’s rule, Egypt had become modernized enough to be considered Western and almost fit to join Europe. It had taken, of course, a mass genocide that Bakura witnessed firsthand.

Some people called that progress. Bakura liked to call things what they were.

Ryou started chewing up his nails again, a habit he'd developed in the last few days. "If he gets what he wants, though, I'm in trouble."

"Stop that." Bakura put down a plastic fork. "What are you trying to say?"

This time, Ryou, seeing that Bakura didn't completely get it where he was coming from, shut his mouth and just smiled his usual, secretive smile. "Just kidding."

He was too smart to sit at home all day and too smart to sit in Bakura's office all day. Bakura wondered how he could use an omega when no one wanted to take him seriously, when Ryou didn’t take himself seriously,

“I told you to get to the point when you talk, didn't I?”

Ryou blinked several times in a row slowly and them said in a virginal tone, "I just feel like, some things are like sex. You always need someone on the bottom."

Bakura got it. If Atem delivers is political promises, there would be a cheap labor hole left to fill. That's where Kaiba would come in with his clone technology. "Replace refugee labor with clones. That's why Kaiba wants Atem in."

It was a fucking brilliant maneuver, if that was the case. Kaiba had a seat on the board and this would give him unprecedented power over an unlimited number of bodies with no historically valid legal rights and could be exploited indefinitely without repercussions.

It wasn't exactly good news but Bakura was grinning. Ryou had a knack for this business, if Bakura was right.

"Your club's going well," Bakura mentioned, changing the topic and showing Ryou a spreadsheet from the briefcase Marik brought in.

"Huh?"

"I bought it, under your name. Jewels."

The reaction was immediate. Ryou dropped the packet of pepper that he was playing with, spilling tiny flakes all over Bakura's Persian rug. "I can't own property."

"I listed you as a technical co-owner. You could make a case for it.”

“Why would I?"

Really, Bakura wasn't sure why he did it. It was his first reaction when Ryou left his car door hanging open that rainy day. At first, he figured Ryou wanted to distance himself, to go back to what he knew, and figured that, if that was what he wanted, it was fine by Bakura. The day he'd gone home and found Ryou gone, he’d slept on the floor because the sheets smelled like omega.

Shit happened and Bakura dealt with it. 

That night, in the rain, however, Ryou really had run. Bakura realized then that all of it was a cry for help.

"I don't want it," said Ryou loudly.

"Don't be juvenile," Bakura told him. "It's good money and you understand the business." Ryou stared at Bakura with big eyes like he was crazy. "I want you to work for me," Bakura said. "You can start with Marik and the guys under him. Get them to operate the daily affairs but I want you in control."

Ryou looked away. "Oh. You're joking."

"I'm not." Bakura motioned with a hand and Ryou slid closer on his hands and knees. "You can burn it down for all I care. Just take care of it."

Ryou spend half a minute staring at Bakura's knee spaced out while Bakura finished the last few mouthfuls of his meal. Then he smiled. "Okay," he said and "I'm done eating."

"Give it to me.” Pushing his plate towards Bakura on the desk, Ryou leaned against his legs. Taking the food, Bakura tried some of the salad left. "What do you think I should do about Egypt?"

Ryou was playing with his belt, trying to fit too many fingers in one loop. "Make an enemy?"

"You think I could work with him?"

Pressing his chin onto Bakura's leg, Ryou looked up. "You already bought a lot of many guns last week."

Yes, Bakura had bought a lot of guns but Atem had three nuclear weapons. "What do you know about guns?"

"I think you can kill him," Ryou said like he was lost in thought. "But, if I were you, I'd buy more guns."

 

* * *

 

"Does it bother you?" Ryou asked when they were in bed that night. "That I've been with so many guys?"

Bakura was getting in bed and slid close to Ryou, hooked one of Ryou's legs over an arm that stretched him open and tucked the knee against his chest. "I'm not really like that."

"At all?"

"No." Bakura started to stroke right between Ryou's legs, making him purr. "Are you?"

"Jealous?"

Bakura thought for a second and suggested, "Yeah, like of Malik."

Ryou's hips started to move with Bakura's hand, back and forth. "Oh, are you still seeing him?" he asked trying to sound like he didn't care.

"A few times when you were away."

The touches Bakura was giving Ryou stayed light even as he stretched himself further, trying to get more. The whole situation made Ryou feel sensitive and vulnerable, like Bakura had him split open to where he was most tender. The nonchalant way he touched Ryou made him sigh in pleasure. The moment felt like it could go on forever.

"Can I ask you about him?" he asked. He'd always wanted to, had never done so.

Bakura didn't stop moving his hand up and down. "Of course."

"Are you in love with him?"

"No." Bakura answered immediately and without urgency.

"Oh, why not?"

The hand between Ryou's legs got slower and he bucked trying to get more. "It's not that kind of relationship."

"What kind of relationship is it?"

Seeing Ryou get desperate, Bakura smirked and pulled his hand away. Ryou keened lightly. "It's different every time. Sometimes I see him because I'm bored, sometimes it's to blow off steam. Sometimes I'm frustrated with you."

"I'm frustrating?"

It got too hot and Ryou tried to shrug the covers off. It didn't work and Bakura pulled it half off of him. "You're cute." It was said in a way that sounded like it was something he was saying because he knew was supposed to.

"Would you ever stop seeing him?"

Bakura wet a finger in his mouth and trailed the underside of Ryou's cock with it, making him jerk. "If you asked me to." The words did something to Ryou, made he freeze up when he wasn't expecting it.

"Why?"

Pulling away slightly, Bakura stopped what he was doing and tucked a piece of hair behind Ryou's hair. "Just because I don't get jealous doesn't mean you can't." Finding both of Ryou's wrists, he pulled them together tenderly, laid out between their bodies.

"Oh," said Ryou, watching Bakura lace his fingers together like he was praying, every touch delicate.

"I have more agency than you. You depend on me for food and shelter. If you're feeling jealous, you have your reasons."

It felt like barriers that had been constraining Ryou fell all around him. Alpha didn't recognize the privileges they had in society. Bakura was telling him that the ugly thing he felt in his chest he wanted to extinguish, the character flaws he hated him over were alright after all.

Ryou pulled Bakura close with his leg and ground against him, keeping the composition of his hands as still as possible. "I did Marik in the parking lot after therapy once," he admitted. "He gave me $500. It made me feel more in control."

Rolling them over so that he was on top, Bakura pushed Ryou's knees apart. “Like I said, you can do what you want."

"You don't care about anything?"

Bakura paused in a brief moment of reflection. "You should communicate. I don't like surprises."

Exposed and lewd, Ryou dug a heel against Bakura's hip and motioned up with his hips. "Okay." Bakura's mouth on him had him squirming in minutes.

 

* * *

 

The next time Ryou had his heat, it started in the shower. They'd gotten home early that evening and Ryou had been feeling heated all day. He went to shower to cool off and found slick between his legs.

Bakura was eating a snack, standing at the kitchen counter when Ryou breezed past him in just a loose T-shirt and poured himself a glass of water just inches away.

"Oh, fuck you," he said and grabbed him, pushing him against the fridge.

“Weren't you hungry?" Ryou after they'd kissed feverishly.

“Yeah.” Bakura ground himself against Ryou’s leg and rubbed a scent gland with his nose. His forgotten plate was on the counter. “I’m hungry.”

Ryou took Bakura's hands and put them around his neck. "Tie me up. I want it really badly."

"Do you?"

In the bedroom Bakura took his time undressing and kissing Ryou's neck, his shoulders, his chest, his legs.

"Do you want me to blow you?" Ryou asked abruptly.

Finger in his crack, Bakura said, "I want this." Ryou winced, just slightly, and tried to pull Bakura in for a kiss to hide it but Bakura was already pulling away. He was observant, in nothing else. "Does it hurt?"

It didn't hurt. Ryou had been back for a month and what had been familiar soreness between his legs had faded. "I want it to hurt."

Taking his legs and pulling them apart, Bakura stretched out his hole with a thumb slightly, looking at it and playing with it, and Ryou couldn't help but clench.

"And I want to make you feel good," Bakura said and went down on him.

He swirled his tongue around Ryou's hole so slowly that Ryou felt his stomach drop. Some of his clients liked doing this but it didn't do anything for him. This made him feel like he was just a cunt, like he was gaping open, like he was just a quivering piece of meat. This was _dirty_ and and _intimate_ and Ryou couldn't deal.

Bakura, looking at him, pressed his tongue inside and Ryou let out a pornographic, loud moan.

Holding his cheeks apart with both hands, Bakura moved his tongue inside Ryou before circling his rim again, where everything was already sensitive. Ryou sighed in pleasure and grabbed Bakura's hand, pulling it towards his cock. All Bakura would do was tease the head, hand coated with slick.

Then he sucked Ryou's hole and Ryou _groaned_ , deeper, more unexpected, and more animalistic than the last one.

This was better than Ryou's first heat with Bakura. He had learned Ryou's body in a way that no one had learned it before and played him like an instrument. Everything felt hot. Ryou decided he wanted to come, just like this, Bakura's face buried in him.

"Come on," he groaned and wrapped his hand around Bakura's, pumping himself up and down fast. He could feel Bakura grin and his mouth stilled. "Don't stop what you're doing."

Ryou came, blushing and gasping, with Bakura's tongue licking in and out of him and immediately pushed Bakura’s head away once it was over, all of it suddenly too much, every nerve electric. Moving quickly, he grabbed Bakura up by the hair, crushed their mouths together, broke away and pulled Bakura up by the hips, trying to move him violently and scooting himself up quickly at the same time.

"What are you trying to do?" Bakura asked, trying to move where Ryou was guiding him and straddling him chest.

Leaning against the headboard, Ryou wet his lips. "Fuck my mouth."

He didn't need to say it twice. Bakura rubbed his cock against Ryou's cheek before slipping it in his mouth and pushing against his throat. Ryou inevitably gagged and when Bakura tried to pull out, Ryou slapped his ass and held him in, guiding his hips back and forth, deeper and deeper.

Bakura held himself up against the wall, looking down at Ryou and started to move on his own when Ryou looked up and met his gaze. He really did start to fuck Ryou's mouth then, grinding deep and forcing Ryou to deep throat him even when Ryou struggled, and thrusting in and out hard enough to make Ryou choke.

Ryou loved it. He loved the thick, hard cock in his mouth and he loved the way it tasted and the way it made him focus on nothing else. Bakura was deep in his throat and one hand on the top of Ryou's head, holding him steady and compliant, when he felt the thing twitch and unload. He rubbed his tongue against the vein on the bottom just to feel it move again and Bakura pressed even deeper.

Ryou's hair was still damp when they were done, they had gone so fast. Now, his lips were bruised. When Bakura kissed him, he pressed his lips in slowly and gently.

The first thing Ryou thought of to say was to apologize for his too frequent heats. "Sorry I'm inconvenient." Then he cleared his throat, reminding himself that he hated insecure omegas. "I mean, you're good at that thing you did to me."

Bakura studied him for a long time and didn't respond. "I think you're an asset.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Ryou watched a drama on Bakura's iPad while Bakura took a phone call that turned into three in the kitchen. They’d stopped eating at home too often and they didn't have too many groceries around. He ended up taking a plate of buttered bread and jam back to the bedroom. Ryou looked comfortable draped in the sheets, the show on the iPad still playing and headphones on.

"Why do you always watch these with subtitles?" Bakura asked, putting the plate on a pillow and getting into bed. Ryou didn't eat enough during his heats.

"Huh?" Ryou took a headphone off one ear, eyes still on the screen.

Bakura realized that Ryou had been teaching himself to read through the soap operas all along. "I didn't say anything. Eat this."

All Ryou did was dip a piece of bread in the jar of jam and sniff it. "Ew."

"Don't most of you crave food during heat? Act all babyish and demand we serve them on hands and feet?" Bakura ate a piece of bread. "Are you sure that you're normal?" He was only half joking.

Ryou stared at him. “Is that why you don’t do omegas?”

Not knowing what to say, Bakura smiled inauthentically and brushed Ryou’s cheek affectionately with his thumb.

“That was insensitive," Ryou went on, taking him aback. Bakura gave him a shitty smile. "I never got to eat during my heats growing up," Ryou continued, ignoring him and the food altogether for the TV show.

Bakura felt like an asshole.

"How come?" he tried even though he already had an idea. Ryou must have sensed it because he just gave him a look like he didn't want to bother saying.

"Too busy fucking. They keep us in the Stables, tied up and ready. It's a ranch theme and we're supposed to be stableboys pretending to be horses, I guess." Bakura didn't know whether to laugh to that and Ryou didn't give him a cue before speaking again, very frankly. "Fifty bucks for a ride. If you want time off the clock to eat, you have to pay the pimp. No one does it because it makes the painkillers wear off."

This was the first time Ryou brought up what his life had been like since they found themselves together.

"That fucking sucks," Bakura murmured and stroked Ryou's hair, tilted the headphones with a finger until they came off. On screen, the characters were doing some kind of postmodern slapstick routine. "You should eat something."

"Okay," said Ryou and took a single bite of dry toast.

"I'm serious."

"Do you think it's gross?"

Bakura spread jam across a whole piece of toast and held it out for Ryou. He'd spent a lot of time in the last month trying to get Ryou to start telling him the truth. Now, this coming out was pay off. "You should let me take care of you. I want to do things for you."

Against the bed, Ryou's hair looked stark white, like he was born well camouflaged in cotton. He blinked at the wall, then grabbed the bread out of Bakura's hand so fast and put it in his mouth, he almost dropped it.

“Why didn’t you fuck me for real?” Ryou asked when he finished the piece of toast.

“I did.”

“You know what I mean.” Ryou made a vulgar motion with his fingers.

Bakura thought about the night before but understood that Ryou was talking about when he had run off, about before, the time Ryou had gotten in his car and he felt both excited and a bit sick about the whole thing. On a working night, hookers took between five to ten guys a night. “You looked tired,” was all he said to Ryou.

"I thought you were going to put me to work.”

Bakura dropped a glob of jam on another piece. "Yes."

"I'm probably not going to be very good at it.”

“Just make it profitable.”

“It’s not a profitable business.”

“Sex isn’t,” Bakura agreed and it shut Ryou up. "I don't know how to protect you," Bakura said abruptly. "You have to figure it out and tell me. The way i see it, the only way is to give you power."

Ryou chose his next words carefully. "Is that what you like?"

"Thinking about it, that's probably it. At the time, all I had was a vision of what I wanted my life to look like. Everything I did, it was to make that vision a reality."

Taking the butter knife, Ryou ate a mouthful of jam. "What was it?"

Bakura watched the red sugar coat Ryou's mouth and ripped the toast in half, stuck a piece in. "The usual. Money, power, and respect." He watched Ryou chew, half the toast still sticking out his mouth. "I grew up across the street from that club. Fought in the fighting pits to eat."

Biting the bread off, Ryou swallowed. "I used to go watch. I would have bet on you."

It was a type of compliment that Bakura hadn't heard in too long. “Thanks."

“Mai asked me something like that,” Ryou said, “when we first met.” Bakura hummed, starting to feel sleepy now that he was stuck in bed in the noon sun. “Something I wanted but didn’t have.”

“What’d you say?” Settling in the pillows, Bakura relaxed the arm propping him up and closed his eyes. “I’m falling asleep.”

Bakura waited for Ryou to answer, thinking he was busy eating, but when he opened his eyes, Ryou was just staring at him, plate of bread forgotten between them.

“I can’t remember,” said Ryou and took Bakura’s hand in his.

**Author's Note:**

> So....I turned a few loose ends into a lot loose ends. Originally, this wasn't planned and I wanted to go straight into plot but then I realized that I needed Ryou and Bakura to get to know each other a little more before the things I want to happen can happen. So, feel free to think of this as an intermission.
> 
> In case you're wondering why Ryou has a family when he's a product of science, that will be explained in the next installment. And poor the Ishtars (including poor Malik) will get a lot more screen time. Also, Kaiba was really fun to write!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts if you read this. I's love to hear from you.


End file.
